


Chlorine

by seupeuu



Category: NCT (Band), NCT Dream
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate universe - sad Angela, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Everyone Is Gay, Flirty Na Jaemin, Hyuck and Renjun are in for the gossip lmao, I Wrote This While Listening to Hozier's Music, Jaemin is the most precious boy, Jeno x Jaemin, Lee Jeno is Whipped, Lee Jeno is a Panicked Gay, M/M, NCT Dream - Freeform, Pick-Up Lines, Strangers to Lovers, Swimming Boys, markhyuck, mention of trauma, nomin, nomin is beautiful wbk, straight jeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seupeuu/pseuds/seupeuu
Summary: In which Hyuck dares Jaemin to flirt with a random stranger and he ends up hitting on the University swimming team captain, Lee Jeno.Beware of cheesy pick-up lines and extremely whipped characters.A good balance between angst and fluff :3(Trigger warning: mention of past trauma and episodes of panic attacks)I want to dedicate this story to Jeno's big nose.Also, a big thank you to my friends Ilaria and Giada who support me through the writing of my work :-)
Relationships: Lee Jeno & Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 42
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

_**Jaemin’s eyes are fixed on the kitchen floor: the tiles are dirty and dusty, there is a trail of blood that leads to his feet and from there, the gross droplets of dark liquid stain the flimsy fabric of his white trousers. The boy is not worried though, if anything he is annoyed. He knows he’s in a dream because he is wearing his grandmother’s wedding ring, the one he had lost in a river when he was eight years old and never told anybody about it. The faint light coming in from the kitchen window goes through the green emerald on the ring and reflects gloomily on his hand. He follows the trail of blood with his index finger, starting from his feet and going up to his waist. A sudden, sharp pain dares him to look down at his chest. He knows it is a bad idea, to give in and actually put his attention on the source of the cramp, but his eyes seem to not care about what he thinks, or what he wants, so he takes his chances and fixes his gaze on the bleeding chest.** _

_**To his horror, he discovers that his rib cage is ripped open: he can see his lungs, moving up and down at every short winded breath, and he catches a glimpse of his stomach, quavering, trying to keep everything inside and struggling to stay put. Even part of the intestines are visible, and if he weren’t so overwhelmed by the oddity of the moment, Jaemin would find the sight quite an interesting one; he had always been engrossed by anatomy when he was little, as he used to spend a lot of his free time flipping through his mother’s medical enciclopedias.** _

_**Actually, all of his organs are present, some very large and majestic, others hiding shyly behind the more imposing ones. Well, all except one.** _

_**On his right hand, he is now holding a human heart: it is soggy and quite squishy, and since Jaemin is holding onto it quite tightly, the pulsating thing keeps dribbling down with fresh vermilion liquid. The boy looks at it, half horrified, half fascinated. On his left hand, though, he is holding another heart. This one is empty, lifeless, slumped over his fingers like a small sack of flour. It looks tired, exhausted even, and it takes all of Jaemin’s willpower to not throw it on the floor, considering how disgusted he is after having such a vision. He weighs the two hearts on his hands: even as the first one looks vital and full of hot blood, the second one seems to be a lot heavier and the boy is taken aback by this new piece of information. What does this mean?** _

Before he is able to make a decision, the boy opens his eyes and finds himself sweating in his bed, his phone buzzing in a piercing ringtone on the bed stand. The golden light of that early September morning, filtering through his window in a chaste calm, is able to take his worriedness away in just a few seconds.

Jaemin gets up to the perfume of breakfast, which his roommate used to prepare every morning: a delicate and flavorous fragrance; eggs jumping in the pan, the sweet and light marmalade spread on crispy toast and the fresh aroma of roasted beef, that you could find on their table only on special occasions, like when his mother came from China to visit their dorm or when Jaemin passed his driving exam just a few weeks earlier. The boy adored cooking: he would experiment new recipes every morning, and repeat them in the evenings if the outcome was positive. Jaemin didn’t mind at all.

“Aren't you tired of cooking for everyone, every single morning?” the younger shouts from the top of the stairs, in his night robe, hair messy. He’s still a bit shaken from the nightmare he just woke up from, but he puts up a happy face in order to avoid bothering questions from his friend.

“Everyone? It’s just us three! Besides, I want you to eat in the morning so you won’t get dizzy later. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” the older yells back, smiling, only to find out that the sleepy boy has already gone back to his room.

Now that he is alone again, Jaemin takes some time to look at himself in the mirror.

His figure is pleasing, slender and rakish, yet elegant, graceful and undeniably attractive. After joining the swimming team in his old school, his skinny body had the chance to transform into a muscular, sharper version of it, letting the old wiry frame of his shift to a more athletic one. He likes that, because he has something to brag about when his mother compares him to Jaehyun and all of his wonderful achievements. At least, now he is fitter than his older brother. 

As a matter of fact, he spends a lot of his time staring at his reflection lately, admiring his virtuous figure and criticising the tiny flaws here and there. Jaemin blows away one of the brown locks that were leaning on his straight nose, the hot breath creating a foggy circle on the mirror. With his pinky finger, he decides to draw a smiley face, only to see it disappear after a few seconds when the clean surface dries again. His cheeks are stippled with tiny freckles, that usually peep on his face after a sunny summer spent at the sea, his lips are a bit chapped and the tan lines on his neck are still slightly visible since he spent his last days working under the sun, helping the astronomy club build their new observatory. He had met a lot of interesting people in astronomy club, but none of them seemed to be interested in building a friendship, so they just kept that little awkward relationship where you avoid eye contact when you meet at social gatherings even though you actually know each other.  
Jaemin’s drowsy eyes wander a bit on his broad shoulders before fixing themselves on the massive scar that is stretched across his chest. There it is: his most gruesome feature. Jaemin hates that scar with all his being, yet he knows it is also the reason why he is still alive.

_**About eight months earlier, Jaemin’s old friends had found him passed out on the pool floor: his heart had stopped beating so he was brought to the hospital and had to undergo an emergency operation to his ventricles. About a month later, his chest was ripped open for the second time, when he had to go through a heart transplant.  
Much to his disappointment, Jaemin had to stay in bed for a long period of time after the surgery, causing him to lose his scholarship for swimming. Nonetheless, he decided to try out for a film course, which was admittedly one of his secret passions, and with the help of his high school teachers, who wrote amazing references for the boy, he was able to have access to one of the most renowned universities in the country.  
After the accident, Jaemin felt lost, like he had no purpose in this world other than being there for his friends and taking care of other people’s problems. He hadn’t been able to hang around a pool ever since the operation.** _

_**During the summer, he had moved to the university campus, leaving behind all his old friends who either went to a sports college with a swimming scholarship, or left school to start working low salary jobs. Jaemin was quite proud of himself for continuing his studies, even though his family didn’t really care about what his decision would be, as long as it didn’t interfere with their busy lives.** _

_**His new roommates were luckily very sweet and friendly from the start, which was a relief for Jaemin, who had to put up with fake friends and mean cheerleaders for the past four years of his life. Renjun was an art student: externally, he was outspoken and bitter, but he revealed himself to be a very caring and sincere companion. On the contrary, Hyuck was radiant and bubbly, always complimenting or teasing Jaemin, and overall a very fun person to be around. He was a law student, and spent most of his free time watching bad crime shows to try and outsmart the characters, only to fail miserably and complain about it with Renjun. Jaemin couldn’t ask for better company.** _

The boy gets dressed and walks cheerfully towards the kitchen table, taking in the amazing smell of beef and eggs that his roommate had just put on a plate.

“Can you believe it? First day of the first year!” he says, excited like a child. After the last year of high school, which ended on a bittersweet note because of the accident, Jaemin was more than enthusiastic to start fresh with a new experience, not only as a student but as a university student.

“Can’t wait!” replies Renjun with a bit of sarcasm. He isn’t as excited, and reasonably so. “Where’s Hyuck?”

“Still sleeping, probably”

“Should we wake him up?” asks the older, laying his eyes on the expensive watch that is wrapped around his wrist.

“I’m awake, you idiots” with messy hair and purple circles etched around his eyes, Hyuck approaches the two boys at the table and plops onto one of the chairs. He continues: “The only thing I’m looking forward to is getting into a relationship. Give me that College Love Story everybody longs for: I know I’m gonna find my Romeo this year! Forget Law school, I’m already tired of studying and I haven’t even started yet”. The other two glance at him, amused. It was expected of Hyuck, as he was always the coquettish one out of the three.

“On the other hand, I’m trying to avoid a relationship at all costs. Love can mess people up, and I need to focus on my studies.” Renjun says with a sigh, thinking about his old crush and how hard it was to study back then with that stupid, beautiful face printed on the insides of his brain.

“Well, you can’t deny that love is usually beneficial to artists: look at Frida Kahlo for instance! All her work basically revolves around her relationship with Diego Rivera.” Jaemin intervenes, though he is immediately cut off by an upset Renjun who starts to argue that actually, her work was about womanhood and her relationship with her culture; and the two boys trail off into a fervent discussion about twentieth century Mexican art.

“Ok but, what about you Jaemin?” begins Hyuck, who is eager to change the subject at all costs, seeing how upsetting it is for Renjun to get passionately immersed in such a heated debate at eight o’clock in the morning “are you looking for love?”

The boy ponders for a moment. He thinks about his last relationship, with a bit of sadness but mostly with fondness for the girl who had left him to go study abroad. “I don’t know… I don’t think I’m really good at this kind of things… My girlfriend was amazing, but I never really had to win her over, since we had been knowing each other for a very long time before and she was smitten with me from the start anyways. I guess I wouldn’t know how to approach somebody new, you know?” The last bit of the sentence comes out of his mouth rather quietly, like he is ashamed of it for some reason.

As if on cue, the other two start teasing him: “Aweee our Jaemin doesn’t know how to flirt! That’s adorable!”

“Shut up!” That’s not true! I am perfectly able to flirt!” The boy in question defends himself, as his cheeks start to redden a bit because of his annoyance (or maybe, because he knows that it’s true even though he’s denying it).

“Sure, then show us how you do it!”

Jaemin hesitantly straightens himself up on his chair, then, after a few seconds of reflection, he stares right into Renjun’s eyes with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Ew! Hyuck, get this boy away from me!” the latter shouts, but the other is too busy laughing like a monkey to pay any attention to what the shorter boy said.

Now Jaemin looked almost hurt: “What? It wasn’t that bad…”

“It was the absolute worst, Jaem. Besides, you can’t win somebody over with just one look! You have to talk as well.” explains Renjun, with a tone of compassion.

“I swear I can do it!”

“You clearly cannot”

Frustrated, Jaemin crosses his arms on his chest. It is true, he isn’t really good at talking to people, especially if he has never met them before. But something about the mocking tone his friends use against him, itches on his nerves. So in that moment his mind comes up with an idea: maybe it isn’t the best one, but he found it to be good enough to make Hyuck and Renjun shut the hell up. “You know what? I will demonstrate you. This morning, you guys pick a random person on the street and I’ll show them my charming side. In public. On the spot”.  
Jaemin looks quite proud, even though, after speaking, he regrets opening his stupid mouth. In fact, he feels like this is possibly the worst idea he’s ever had.

“You’re saying you will seduce a stranger to make a point? Fuck, I’m in.” states Hyuck, clearly excited. Okay, thinks Jaemin, now it’s definitely too late to withdraw.

Renjun raises an eyebrow, seeming a bit hesitant: “Isn’t it a bit cruel?”

Jaemin justifies himself, nonchalantly: “It’s not like I’m going to make them fall in love with me, it’s just a game”

“You might, though” says Hyuck “Oh my God, Renjun! We have to choose a hot one”

“Yes, please.” Jaemin looks at him with his hands united as to mimic a prayer. Then, he glances at his phone. “Also, our bus is in ten minutes so we have to hurry.”

“Shit”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would DIE if I were Jeno

The boys get dressed in a rush and are just in time to steal a waffle from the table before running outside to try and catch the bus. Fortunately, they are able to make it, but since the vehicle is already packed, they have to squeeze in between an elderly man who is definitely too old to be able to stand up properly, and a girl about their age who is loudly chatting with a friend on the phone.

“Okay, Renjun, it’s our moment” Hyuck proposes, already overexcited. Then he turns towards Jaemin: “What about her? She seems like the perfect candidate!”

“Too loud” says the latter, unimpressed.

“That girl over there?” tries Renjun “She’s quiet. And she looks like your type”

“Mh, I don’t know, she is too far away and it would take half an hour to reach the end of the bus…”. The other two nod.

“That’s true.” Hyuck glanced around the seats “That guy?”

“What? He’s like, thirty? Too old”

The bus comes to a halt and about half of the passenger get off, leaving a bit of space for the three boys to breathe and make themselves a bit more comfortable. They are still standing, but at least they can turn around without having to apologise for bumping into a stranger every five seconds. The people who had been waiting at the stop enter the bus looking for a seat. 

“You’re making it difficult Jaem! You said you would leave the choice to us!” Hyuck whispers, but it comes out more like a hoarse screech.

Suddenly the three hear a loud thump on the floor. As they look down, the boys are hit by the lovely sight of a tall black haired boy, whose body is spread out over the bus floor and whose belongings have fallen all over the place. A hardback notebook with the title “Silly poems” lands heavily on Renjun’s foot.

So, in that moment, Jaemin takes his chance, without hesitation.

“Did it hurt?”

The boy on the floor mutters a loud “huh?” with a puzzled (and rather embarrassed) expression on his face. His big nose scrunches up a bit as he gets ready to say that yes, it hurt a bit, but it’s nothing too unbearable for an athlete like him. What he doesn’t expect is Jaemin’s immediate addition to his previous sentence

“...when you fell from heaven?” he has a smirk on his face, but as soon as he realises what he just said, his cheeks flush as red as ripe cherries. Jaemin has to admit that the guy on the floor appears as undeniably charming, with his sharp jawline and dark thin eyes, which doesn’t help the state of his embarrassment at all. As a matter of fact, both boys look positively flustered by now, waiting for the other to speak first while hoping for the floor to swallow them completely.

From behind the awkward duo, Renjun and Hyuck burst into a resounding laughter: “What the fuck was that, Jaem? Who even uses pick-up lines anymore?”

The frivolity with which his friends took the whole interaction seems to give a bit of confidence back to Jaemin, who is now smiling along with the others, while the dark haired boy hurriedly reaches to gather the books that have landed onto the bus floor after he fell. When the vehicle stops in front of the campus, he dashes out onto the street, with his books held tight on his chest, leaving behind the laughing trio, who get off composedly and thank the bus driver for his service with a smile.

“I thought we were supposed to choose for you!” whined Hyuck, putting on a fake hurt expression. “Now you ruined it”

“I’m sorry… I just… wasn’t thinking straight” Jaemin reflects about how fascinating the boy on the bus was. He had seen a lot of handsome people in his life, and turned down quite a few of them who tried to get in his pants while he was still in a relationship with his last girlfriend. However, nobody had ever had such an effect on him as bus boy did. That guy was inherently charming, and had been able to make his stomach turn upside down simply with a look. Which is why Jaemin promises himself to pursue him, whatever the cost. He’s just not going to tell his friends. For now at least.

“Whatever. Don’t worry.” Says Renjun, still grinning like an idiot “It was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen! Your face when he looked at you? Priceless! You were blushing like a tomato!”

“Well, to be fair” Hyuck intervenes “He was super hot.”

“Aaaaand, he has a girlfriend” adds the older dramatically, pointing to a spot a few meters away where the black haired boy is placing a small peck on a short haired girl’s lips. “Sorry Jaem”

“Shut up.” Jaemin is a bit disappointed. What was he expecting? For the handsome boy to leave his girlfriend and go for the stranger who had bothered him with an idiotic pick up line instead of helping him get up off the floor? Delusional.  
Of course, everything started off as just a game, and now the idea of meeting the boy again was very appealing, but rather improbable. Although he doesn’t deny that he would sure like to talk to the boy again.

Also, he wants to demonstrate to his friends that he is not done yet. The game is still on. Jaemin knows that pick-up lines aren’t usually very effective, but he finds them rather interesting, and at least a hundred times funnier than ordinary compliments. So, without thinking, he opens his mouth once again, shouting:

“Hey! Do you have a name or can I call you mine?”

The couple in front of them looks at him, and the girl clings onto the boy in a defensive motion, looking at him from below his chin. He laughs wholeheartedly and his eyes take the form of two little crescent moons. “I’m Jeno!” he yells back. Then he turns around and walks towards the campus, hand in hand with the short haired girl.


	3. Chapter 3

After Jeno has accompanied Misun to her class, which stands on the fourth floor of the Art building, he rushes down the stairs, worriedly glancing at his wristwatch and noticing that he is running a bit late. At the front door, he stumbles upon one of the boys he met earlier on the bus, the short one, and nearly tramples over him in the frenzy of the moment. “Sorry!” he shouts, then he throws himself on the street and keeps running, indifferent to the two girls on a scooter who have to abruptly stop the vehicle in order to avoid a deadly accident. When he reaches the cafe, he catches his breath.

The Interlude Cafe is located just in front of the fine arts building, where dance, art and film students hang around, so in the mornings it fills up with pretentious young people who demand their daily dose of caffeine in order to be able to make it through the day. From the front door, which is quite large compared to the dimensions of the premise, you have to take a few steps down a brief staircase before reaching the actual cafe space, where all the tables are laid out in a cozy setup. The ceiling is very tall and the windows are high up, seen as the bar is located under the ground level: from the ceiling long black chandeliers hover over the tables, rendering the atmosphere of the cafe as way more pompous than it actually is. The walls are painted of a hollow dark grey, and covered in bright emerald ivy and all kinds of creeping vines, while the area under the stairs hosts a majestic aquarium full of water plants and colourful fish. The hipsters who frequently hang around the cafe ask themselves how it is possible that the owner, a pale bony man with a pointed chin, is always working and never takes a break: one day, they accused the guy of being an actual vampire who has to hide his true form throughout the work shifts, and it basically became the most influential urban legend across campus. The man in question, Doyoung, isn’t too happy about this.

The Interlude has just opened, yet there is already a long queue that extends from the counter up to the entrance. Jeno rushes down the stairs and through the kitchen, he plops his books onto the floor and puts on his black apron. Doyoung is already waiting for him at the bar.

“Sorry man, Misun asked me if I could accompany her to class so…” Jeno said, breathlessly, to which his brother only responded: “Less talking, more working!”

The morning flew away like a swarm of bees in the spring, pretty cramped but it’s quite a relief when it’s gone. It is twelve o’clock now, and most of the students are either in class, or gone home to eat and relax: only a few tables are occupied and the two waiters can finally catch their breath after a couple of hours of crazed running around.

Suddenly, the bell above the door rings in a tingling echo and Jeno looks up the stairs, only to meet a pair of dark eyes that he recognizes immediately: the boy from the bus has just entered his brother’s cafe. Said boy rushes down the stairs and towards the counter, then he puts his hands on the edge of the display cabinet full of expensive patisserie and smiles triumphantly. Jeno’s heart pounds in his chest: he feels ashamed, reminiscing of the incident on the bus, and can’t help but wonder how the guy hasn’t started mocking him yet because of what happened earlier.

“Well, if it isn’t bus boy! Jeno, right?”

“...yes. Lee Jeno. And you are?” the older answers, still a bit skeptical on why the boy would be so interested in talking to him. To be fair, he isn’t refusing him, either. As a matter of fact Jeno finds the guy quite intriguing, like a breath of fresh air within the ordinariness of his days. Plus, their exchange on the bus was absolutely hilarious, to say the least, so he immediately casts Jaemin as a funny and overall alright guy.

“Na Jaemin. But you can call me babe.” he says, with a wink.

The older rolls his eyes, exasperated: “Okay ‘babe’, can you please take off your greasy hands from the window? You’re scaring the cookies”, to which Jaemin responds: “Only if you can make a hot chocolate for me” and he adds, grinning: “With extra cream please”

Jeno turns around and starts tinkering with the machine behind the register, he then proceeds to take a grey mug and fill it with the dense dark liquid that is coming out of one of the pipes, while the smell of caribbean cocoa makes its way through his nostrils. When the beverage is ready, he places it on the counter and carefully spreads a ton of whipped cream on the top. He opens the cabinet and takes out a ginger cookie, which he places on top of the hot chocolate with a satisfied look. As the final touch, Jeno adds a bunch of chocolate sprinkles, and Jaemin is left to believe that this boy must be an artist. After thanking the older, he is ready to speak again: “So… aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

Jeno is taken aback by the sudden compliment, and he really doesn’t know how to answer, so it takes a few seconds before he’s able to splatter out a sentence: “Uhm, uh this is my brother’s cafe, so I work here I guess. Plus, I’m in the University Swimming Team. I swim. Yeah.”

At the boy’s words, Jaemin’s eyes sparkle. Swimming had always been his passion, his first love, to the extent that he had almost fallen into a state of depression when he found out he couldn’t train anymore. So now, he feels a truly powerful connection with the waiter, even though they still don’t know anything about each other. “Can I be your friend?” he spits out with naive innocence, and Jeno can’t help but wonder whether Jaemin really means it. Maybe it’s just another one of his idiotic pick up lines and he has to wait to hear its ending. But, he thinks, the boy is innately captivating, and he’d love to get to know him more. Besides, Mark and Doyoung are his friends only because he has known them for the majority of his life, and he never really had the opportunity to make any new ones on his own, so the idea of becoming close to Jaemin sounds suddenly rather intriguing. He timidly says, in a smile: “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

During the time Jaemin spends sitting a the bar and enjoying his hot chocolate, Jeno manages to clear up the whole bar while Doyoung walks back and forth intermittently to pass new orders to the kitchen and wash up the dirty plates. His eyes are heavily circled and the tone of his skin is squalid; he looks absolutely exhausted. Jeno glances at him: “You should get some rest. Go on a break or something.” but his brother just answers: “I don’t want to leave you working alone” and pushes the door to the kitchen, hands full of dirty espresso cups. The younger rolls his eyes, then he takes a rag out the pocket of his apron and starts polishing the cupboards to perfection. Jaemin glances at him from the side: Jeno works efficiently, with rapid movements, and has assumably been helping his brother out at the cafe for a long time, since he looks quite experienced; but he is obviously worn out after the busy morning shift. So Jaemin thinks of a way to cheer him up, and, of course, another one of his cheesy lines pops right up in his mind.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes, because I can’t take them off you” he says, out of the blue. Jeno stops to look at him, the bright rays coming in from the window project a luminous line onto Jaemin’s sharp features, his mouth half-closed and surrounded by a thin brown line of chocolate. Jeno smiles because he finds it funny that a bold guy like him would have to be reminded to clean his chocolate mustaches. He takes a napkin from the counter and hands it to Jaemin, in a giggle: “Your eyes are fine... They’re pretty.”

“Oh God Jeno! I’m away for five seconds and you’re already flirting with the clients? This is why I don’t take breaks!” Doyoung comes back from the kitchen and scolds his brother, striking him on the arm with a wet rag. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Jaemin stares at the floor. To him flirting with Jeno is just a silly game that he likes to play; but apparently the latter takes the whole thing way more seriously. It’s not that he hasn’t done it before, but being exposed philandering to your older brother isn’t exactly what you would define as cool. So Jeno attempts to justify himself, while looking utterly flustered. He mentally curses Jaemin for making him feel so discombobulated, but he realises it’s partly his fault for being a socially awkward mess of a person, all the damn time.

“Well, thanks for the chocolate Jeno” Jaemin says, passing a hand on the nape of his neck. He feels like his presence is making the other boy uncomfortable, and he’s got a bunch of things to do at the apartment anyways, so he just adds: “See you around I guess”. He takes out a couple of coins from his wallet and hands them to Doyoung, who closes the cash register and shakes his head, flashing a tired smile: “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“Oh. Well take this as a tip then.” Jaemin leaves the money on the counter and waves the two brothers goodbye.

Doyoung looks at Jeno and raises his eyebrows: “I knew you would fall for the cheeky type eventually.” he winks as he gets ready to serve the next customer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Focusing on Renjun for a second because that's cute ♥

_**10th of October** _

Renjun has gotten used to his new routine by now: he wakes up at five and writes for about an hour on his journal, a small notebook with the chinese characters for “serenity” and “happiness” on the cover, that a mysterious man had gifted him on the beach one day last summer and that the boy uses now to organise his thoughts before the day starts. He showers, gets dressed and then walks to the closest convenience store (which, luckily for him, is just two blocks away), where he manages to buy the bare essentials to cook a decent breakfast for his roommates, who are always whining about being hungry, but could set the kitchen on fire if they ever dared to put the stove on.

After eating, he meditates for about twenty minutes, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed focusing on his third chakra, although he usually gets interrupted halfway through the session by a confused Hyuck who is interested in an honest opinion about his outfit for the day. Sometimes Jaemin joins him, sitting on the floor in the same position, failing miserably to focus and giving up straight away, since his mind too often channels on thoughts of meeting bus boy again instead.

They usually light up an incense stick, one of those really smelly ones that stench up their living room for the whole morning. They aren’t really allowed to do those kinds of things in the dorm, but it’s also true that their neighbours smoke weed all day, and nobody has ever complained or signaled them to the University Offices, so Renjun is pretty sure they’re not going to get caught either. Plus, he’s an art student, so he’s not supposed to care. You know, to keep up his anarchistic image.

He does care, though, about a lot of other things. First on the list, his abstract paintings, alongside the myriad of letters that his pen friend from China sends to him every month, and that the boy carefully stacks under his mattress in order to keep them hidden from everyone else. Perhaps it’s because he feels a special bond with his pen friend, a connection which he hasn’t experienced with anyone else. Perhaps it’s because everytime he gets a letter, his heart flutters, but we don’t really have the time to uncover all that.

On this cold day of october, Renjun walks towards the art building with a heavy tote bag that weighs on his shoulder and makes it hard for him to properly walk: it is full of old brushes, perfectly sharpened pencils, and a bunch of other supplies kept immaculate despite the years. He decides to not take the bus, enjoying the chilly breeze that caresses his cheeks, turning them slightly pink. His worn out converse shoes don't really match with the light brown coat he’s wearing over a black and white striped turtleneck, but on his tiny, slim figure, any outfit, however absurd or mismatched, is always bound to fit perfectly.

He enters the class with a coffee in his hand, courtesy of the owner of the Interlude cafe’, who is always extremely generous to the Chinese boy despite the rumors of him being a very greedy person. Renjun takes a seat on a wooden chair in front of a curvy model, who is wearing a green robe and tapping frantically on the screen of her phone, trying to complete the last level of her game before the lecture starts.

After a couple of minutes, a pretty girl with short, dark hair plops onto the chair beside Renjun, gracelessly yawning. She’s wearing a long sleeved shirt with little embroidered daisies on the back, and a pair of thick purple glasses that match her heavy boots.The boy recognises her from that day, about two weeks earlier, where Jaemin had made a fool of himself by hitting on her boyfriend, and suddenly feels a pang of guilt itching in his chest. He’d seen the girl in his class before, he just never had the chance to talk to her.

She seems to recognise Renjun as well, as her eyes light up upon seeing him, so he decides to approach her and apologise right away: “Hi… Uhm... I’m sorry about my friend, for what happened the other day. Jaemin can be…” Renjun tried to think of a nice way to put it: “...Unpredictable, sometimes.”

She nonchalantly answers: “Don't worry, it happens all the time. I’m getting used to strangers flirting with my boyfriend by now...” and she sounds like she really means it, like she isn’t jealous at all. Renjun is relieved.

Their professor, a short man with a pointy nose, puts his long red coat on the coat hanger after entering the room and greeting his students with a cold ‘Hello’. He then proceeds to explain the lesson in a thin, high pitched voice: their task for the next two hours is to focus on replicating in detail the most stunning features of a woman’s body. As the students start to take out their art supplies, the female model takes off her robe and spreads out gracefully on the wooden platform in the middle of the room.

The short haired girl smiles and turns her body towards the boy, even though her eyes are still fixated between her canvas and the naked woman posing in front of them. “I’m Misun, by the way.” she whispers, starting to trace neat curved lines on the white panel, and Renjun is fascinated by the elegance in which her pencil dances around the paper.

“Renjun” he smiles back “Nice to meet you.”

When he begins to draw the woman’s eyes, his new friend speaks again, a bit louder as she is excited to have finally made a new friend: “Ah, I see! My step brother is Chinese, too! I can speak a bit of Mandarin, wanna hear?”

The boy lets out a light chuckle: “Sure, let’s hear it” he responds, and even though she is not half as good as a native speaker like Renjun, they manage to hold up a nice conversation in Mandarin, where he learns that she likes rock music and sappy romantic comedies, she hates spiders and mint tea, and every time she gets on the train, she sits next to the window and pretends to be in a sad music video while listening to melancholic piano tunes.

When the lesson is finished, Renjun packs up his drawings, waves her goodbye and hurries back to the house.

He finds his roommates splattered out on the couch: Jaemin is mindlessly munching on peeled almonds, eyes focused on the tv screen, while Hyuck is whining about the protagonist of the horror film they’re watching, who’s clearly making all the wrong decisions and driving herself to her doom.

“Renjun plops his bag on the floor and joins them: “Guys, I have news”

“What news?” asks Hyuck, lowering the volume of the tv but still sounding disinterested in whatever his friend has to say.

“I met bus boy’s girlfriend today. She’s nice.” Renjun says, excitedly, and Jaemin’s eyes light up at the mention of Jeno. Renjun continues: “We spoke Chinese and drew together; I think she’s an amazing artist! Plus, she’s really funny and sweet…”, and Hyuck takes it as an opportunity to tease Jaemin: “Awe, she sounds perfect! I’m sorry Jaem, it looks like your competitor might be harder to beat than you thought!”

“Shut up Hyuck” the boy hisses back. Both of his roommates turn to face him, as he admits: “Of course he’s not interested in me, he’s straight anyways… And I’m not interested in him either!” he adds, gaining a few amused looks by the other two “I just think it would be nice to get to know him better, since he swims and all…”

The smirks on Hyuck and Renjun’s faces morph into a concerned expression: “Jaemin... you wanna try swimming again? ...Are you sure you’re ready to go to the pool? You want us to come with?” His friends hadn’t been there when the whole incident happened, since at the time they didn’t even know each other yet, but they know going back to swimming is definitely a big deal to Jaemin, and they want to be there for him whenever he decides to try it out again. The latter, however, puts on a shield whenever the topic is even brushed upon and really tries to find anything else to talk about.

“No, don’t worry, I’m not going to swim anytime soon…” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m just saying, it would be fun to have him as my friend. He’s nice. And he’s fun to tease.”

“You don’t even know him that well, you’ve talked to him like, twice?” Hyuck asks. In reality, Jaemin has spoken to Jeno in various occasions since they first met: he’s been greeting him in the mornings on the bus, pulling out a new cheesy line every day and secretly sending the stomach of the other boy in a butterfly frenzy at each attempt of flirting with him. He’s even gone to the Interlude Cafe a few times, with the pleasure of having Doyoung side eyeing him the whole time as he tries to hold up a conversation with Jeno. However Jaemin feels like he doesn’t really know him yet, like there is so much to learn from him and he’s just been reading the first chapter of a whole, three thousand pages book.

“Yeah… You’re not wrong.” for some reason, he decides to keep the truth from his friends “Which means, I definitely have to get to know him better, right?”

Hyuck answers, excited: “Yes Jaem! Go get your man!”

He is immediately hit by a pillow that Renjun has thrown in his direction, which triggers the beginning of the most epic pillow fight to ever occur in the history of man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok renjun is short we get it also not surprising but this chapter is mostly fluff lol

_**14th of October** _

The University Student Council has been organising the Freshmen Welcoming Party for at least a month and a half, so to say the gardens of the campus are decorated up to the detail, is an understatement. The grass has been freshly cut in advance and a few long wooden tables have been set out in the center of the area, where some art students have spread out rose petals and dried wildflowers and where endless types of sweets and delicious cakes are elegantly placed, only waiting to be eaten by the greedy freshmen, who are the protagonists of the event. The majestic maple trees are starting to lose their leaves, which are gracefully falling on the grassy floor, creating a magnificent shade of warm tints on the ground, while the almost bare weeping willows are adorned with various strands of luminous fairy lights that provide a cosy feeling to the whole scene. On the side, a small stage with a dj set is occupied by a group of seniors, probably members of the Student Council, who are loudly chatting over the electro swing remix that is blasting from the speakers.

The Party is an occasion for the new students to exchange a few words and get to know each other a bit better, and it is famously known to be one of the coolest social gatherings of the school year, that is why many sophomores and juniors often forge their student IDs to appear as freshmen, and be able to attend the event. Which is what Mark did, of course.

“Earth to Jeno!” Mark’s voice rings through Jeno’s ears like a bell, still a bit muffled through the loud music coming from the speakers

“Huh?” Jeno comes back to reality, as Mark is waving a hand in front of his face and following the invisible thread of where his eyes are looking, only to fix his gaze on a pretty brown haired boy, who seems to be emphatically discussing some very relevant matter with his slightly tipsy group of friends. Truth be told, Jeno has been staring at Jaemin for quite a few minutes now, channeling out all of Mark’s trivial comments on the dull taste in music of the deejay, who, to his annoyance, happens to be none other than his older brother Johnny, quite known to the student body for being an activist for human rights and standing up for the new coming of a benevolent communist government.

“Is that the guy you told me about? the one from the bus?” he asks, innocently. Jeno nods, hoping Mark won’t be able to notice the slight shade of pink that appeared on his cheeks after being reminded of the several accounts in which Jaemin has been trying to tease him with his stupidly funny lines. “Yes, Na Jaemin.”

“...You don’t have to be embarrassed, just go and talk to him!” Mark encourages him, patting his shoulder and trying to push him in the brown haired boy’s direction. He can’t actually tell that Jeno’s blushing, but even from a distance Jaemin looks like an alright guy, the typical kind of person who doesn’t mind being the center of attention and who always knows the right thing to say, judging by the resounding laughter of his very pretty friend and the looks of amusement that the other boy, the short one, is trying to hide under a contained smile.

“What? I’m not embarrassed!” says Jeno, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just that… it would be weird if I were to approach him, wouldn’t it? I don’t want to… lead him on, you know?” continues the boy, mentally facepalming for the sentence he just heard himself say.

Mark frowns, looking slightly confused: “Of course not, what are you talking about? He just wants to be your friend, right? If I were you, I’d go talk to him.”

Right, Jeno thinks, why is he even thinking Jaemin could be interested in him that way? He’s sure the boy just likes to tease him anyway, and he feels a bit uneasy realising that perhaps he misunderstood everything. Maybe he’s a bit disappointed, too, but it’s difficult to admit why: it feels a bit selfish to a boy with a humble spirit such as Jeno, to reckon that he really takes delight in the idea of Jaemin being attracted to him, even though he knows the poor boy just wants to become his friend.

“Oh. Nevermind. He’s coming to us.” announces Mark, with a sparkle in his eyes.

As Renjun departs from their circle to join his clique of pretentious art students, who are discussing the importance of including corinthian elements in contemporary architecture, Jaemin and Hyuck start walking towards the two black haired boys who have been throwing glances at them for the last twenty minutes. Hyuck is wearing a light green quilted jacket and a pair of matching jade earrings, while Jaemin is elegantly flaunting his new beige coat.

“Lee Jeno, did you just come out of the oven? Because damn, you look hot” the latter exclaims as he approaches the two, while Hyuck bursts out in laughter and Jeno rolls his eyes with a fond smile, greeting him: “Hello to you too, Jaemin. Oh, by the way, this is Mark” he says, reaching out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Mark smirks and looks at his best friend: “Oh you weren’t joking when you told me about the pick up lines.”

Jaemin speaks again, very loudly to make sure he’s heard over the sound of the swing music that’s playing from the speakers: “Nice to meet you Mark. This is my friend Hyuck, he’s been stressing me out _all night_ since he’s desperately looking for some stranger to tell him he’s cute.” he accentuates, with the intention of making his friend feel guilty about complaining for the whole evening. Hyuck just grins.

Mark, who is suddenly feeling quite bold, and maybe likes the idea of talking to Hyuck while leaving Jeno no choice but to be left alone with Jaemin, chimes in: “Well then, I think you look cute. No homo though.”

Hyuck promptly responds: “I think you look cute. Very homo.”

“Wanna dance?”

As the new acquainted boys head towards the dj set, where a lot of other students are jumping and moving around to the beat of the music, Jaemin rubs his nape and looks at Jeno. They stare at each other for a few seconds: the younger takes in the exquisite beauty that the black haired boy is radiating, while various flashes of light coming from the dance floor illuminate his cheeks and create a grotesque evolution of shadows over his eyelashes. He puts on a cheeky expression feeling pumped by the rhythm of the music, and points to a bench that’s occupied by a couple of girls who are impassively chatting on their phones: “Do you want to sit down? You must be tired, you’ve been running through my mind all day…”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. You know that I’m an athlete, right? I could run for hours on end” answers the black haired boy, matching the other’s smirk.

“But seriously, the music is too loud, and I’m tired of this party anyway. Would you... like to go for a walk?” Jaemin asks again, furrowing his eyebrows as if that’s supposed to help him hear more clearly what the other is going to say.

Jeno looks around, letting his eyes wander between the myriad of people who are now gathering around the dj set. He notices that Mark is already making out with Jaemin’s friend in the middle of the crowd, so he chuckles. “Sure, let’s go” he says, momentarily wishing he could be as bold and careless as his best friend Mark, who always gets what he wants and doesn’t really take responsibility for the consequences.

They exit the campus gardens and start walking towards the residential district, eventually ending up on a path where the music they were hearing so loud and clear just a few minutes earlier is now muffled, lightly reverberating in their ears, and Jeno’s eyes can’t help but wander in the direction of the boy who is walking so quietly next to him. The street lamps are dimly illuminating the tip of Jaemin’s nose, and projecting a highlight onto his smooth pale skin, making his delicate lips look darker than usual. His light brown hair, that fall so careless onto his forehead, spoil the impeccability of his long eyelashes, while the boy’s cheeks start flushing to a vibrant shade of pink due to the gelid autumn air, and in this moment Jeno believes Jaemin must be the most ethereal being on Earth.

It’s actually really chilly by the time they reach the apartment blocks, and both of the boys are able to see the foggy huffs of hot hair coming out of their nostrils. Jaemin chuckles, burying half of his face in the pleasantly warm scarf he’s wearing around his neck, shivering slightly under his long beige coat. His pale fingers fiddle playfully against the hem of his sleeves, with lightly chapped knuckles and perfectly cut nails, and Jeno feels the sudden, innate urge to hold the boy in his arms and keep him warm. Like a mother bear with his newborn cub, he craves contact with those polar hands, as if his touch could instantly bring them back to their original appearance.

So he just grabs Jaemin’s left hand and puts it in his pocket, bringing the boy closer. Jaemin turns his head towards him with a puzzled expression, but he just keeps his eyes on the pavement, too embarrassed to look up, too afraid of not being able to handle the situation if they ever dare to make eye contact again. Inside Jeno’s felted pocket, Jaemin shyly intertwines their fingers together and both boys are flustered by the intimacy of the gesture.

About a minute later, the younger points at Jeno’s slightly threadbare messenger bag with his free hand: “What do you have there?”

The two have been walking in silence since they left the party, after inadvertently discovering that they find comfort in each other’s taciturnity, so the abrupt sound of Jaemin’s croaky voice takes Jeno by surprise. Glancing up at the sky, still trying to avoid the younger’s eyes, he answers: “Oh, just a few books that I need to return. I was planning to leave them at the library before the party, but I ended up staying late at the pool and I couldn’t find the time to do it…”

“Do you spend a lot of time there?”

Their eyes meet but, unexpectedly, it’s not awkward at all. As a matter of fact, it’s quite comfortable; relaxing, even: “I guess. I have to train for at least three hours every day. You can join me one day if you want.” Jeno mentally slaps his forehead; why would he even suggest something like that? It’s not like Jaemin would be interested in going with him anyway, right? He tries to correct himself, stuttering: “I-I mean, you can come watch me. And the rest of the swimming team, of course.”

The younger smiles, but his answer hides a bittersweet taste: “I will think about it.”

“Okay.”

The two keep walking for a few minutes, both casually chatting after getting used to the presence and the proximity of the other, Jaemin occasionally making witty comments on his professors and classmates, jeno chuckling softly every now and then, still keeping their hands tied together like he’s holding onto his most valued possession. The moon is watching over him as a proud mother, plump and candid, and by the shadows its light casts on the floor, Jeno realises it must be getting quite late: “Uhm, Jaemin? What time is it?”

The other boy takes his phone out of the pocket and checks the time: “Almost midnight”

“Well, fuck. Tomorrow I have training at five in the morning.”

They both chuckle, and Jaemin is taken aback by the sight of the older’s charming smile. “Shit. I’ll let you go home and rest, then?” He proposes, although he’s hoping for the older to stay longer, since he doesn’t really want to let go of his hand yet.

Apparently, Jeno is thinking the same thing, because he quickly chimes: “No don’t worry. I’ll walk you home. Besides, it shouldn’t be that far, right?”

Jaemin points to a spot that’s almost in front of them. “No, it’s actually right there. Building C, Apartment 4.” They reach the end of the road in about two minutes, both purposely walking slower than usual as to delay their inevitable farewells. 

In front of the door, Jaemin turns to look at Jeno, sliding his hand out of the older’s coat pocket and exposing it to the cold air once again. The two are looking for the right words to say, Jaemin wanting to invite Jeno inside for a midnight coffee, something he’s used to do with his roommates on Friday evenings, Jeno trying to find a way to bid him goodbye without really being able to break off the eye contact that seems to have petrified both boys in an everlasting trance. However, the sudden growl of an engine is able to bring them back to reality, along with the beat of a punk song playing muffled in the background. Behind them, a small black car stops, blinding the two with its headlights and making them look like frightened deers. 

Squinting his eyes, Jeno can recognise his brother, Doyoung, sitting in the passenger seat, and Johnny, Mark’s brother and Doyoung’s friend, behind the steering wheel. Mark is too focused chatting on his phone to realise what’s happening, but he’s unmistakably sprawled out on the back seats of the car, illuminated by the screen. They are probably heading back home, and Jeno is quite thankful for their presence since he lives quite far away, so he would have to walk for a long time before being able to get to his apartment, yet he kinda wishes he could spend a few more minutes with Jaemin alone. He immediately blushes at the realisation. “Jen! Is that you?” Johnny asks from a distance, and the boy in question just nods, immediately turning back to face Jaemin: “So…”

Jaemin smiles, and it is quite an unusual expression, like a sympathetic one that Jeno has never seen his pretty face display before: “You should probably go, I’ll see you around. Thank you for walking me home.”

“Yes. Yeah. Uhm, see you around then. Good night.” Jeno rushes towards the car, leaving the younger boy standing in front of the door with his stomach in turmoil.


	6. Chapter 6

Jeno knows exactly what he’s feeling after getting into the car and sitting next to a tipsy Mark.

Firstly, he is drowning in confusion.  
He can’t understand the little games his stomach likes to play whenever he is with Jaemin, why his chest feels so light at the sight of the younger boy. Jeno knows he’s absolutely fucked when he realises he’s developing a huge fat crush on Jaemin. Only once has he had a crush on another boy, one of Doyoung’s friends from his old school many years ago, but he had repressed it with a heavy heart after he’d heard his neighbour say that two boys being with each other was unnatural and wrong. He knows it’s okay now, but he guesses he never dared to look at a boy in the same manner again, to not disappoint himself, in a way.

Well, he never dared to look at a boy like that until Jaemin came into his life.

Secondly, Jeno can’t deny a sentiment of estrangement.  
He is alienated, still feeling the delicate pressure of Jaemin’s fingers between his, still hearing the low tone of the younger’s delightful laughter echoing in his ears, still detecting a trace of his ligneous cologne on the dark coat that’s wrapped around his body so tight and warm. He is hating the distance, if he could turn back time for just a couple of minutes, he would turn down Johnny’s offer to give him a lift, just to be able to spend a few more seconds with the boy who could so easily make his insides burst into a swarm of butterflies. 

Thirdly, he can’t help the guilty sensation that’s scratching on the walls of his throat.  
He is undeniably attracted to the light brown haired boy by now, but he can’t really afford to keep up this little crush of his. He has a girlfriend, god damn it. Attempting to distract himself from the thought of Jaemin who so smoothly takes over his turbulent mind, Jeno tries to start a conversation with Johnny and Doyoung. They are both stoned and unsurprisingly trail off to a discussion about the mechanism of air pressure, asking Jeno what he would do if he ever encountered a trader of barometers. Ugh, physics students.

Not too far away, Jaemin enters the house and quietly closes the door behind his back, looking down to make sure his stomach hasn’t just jumped out of his mouth and right into his hands. Fortunately, all of his internal organs are still in place, even though, after tonight, Jaemin feels like they all decided to play hide and seek around the insides of his body. A shy smile creeps on the boy’s face, as he brushes his cheeks while taking off the woollen scarf, noticing that they’re burning: it’s probably the effect of the variation in his body temperature, which has increased by at least ten degrees after entering the house, but Jaemin likes to believe this phenomenon might be caused by the proximity of sweet and pretty Jeno who, not too long ago, had walked him home by holding his hand and wished him goodnight at his front door, like boyfriends do.

He was actually never affected by this uncomfortable and utterly confusing feeling before in his life; only being used to hookups and silly teenage three-day-long relationships, Jaemin has never had anything more than a slight infatuation towards another person. He’s never been subject to a proper crush, let alone to love. Therefore, he is dazed by how fond of Jeno he already is, and how much he’s missing his touch after only a few minutes of being separated from him, and how he would like to hold his hand again in the future, perhaps, if the other would let him.

Jaemin drags himself to his room and slips under the covers, too tired and unbothered to take a shower, eat something or even change into his pyjamas. He pulls the covers all the way up to his nose and, swaddled up in his thick blanket, he starts mooning over the boy he likes. He knows it’s dangerous to daydream about his friend for many reasons, but he allows himself to feel the lust, just for once, of imagining him there, sleeping next to him. He tries to guess what kind of tea the boy might choose if he was given a selection: would he be a mint tea kind of guy, giving in to that mysterious and private aura of his, or would he prefer something sweet and genuine, like raspberries and vanilla? Jaemin settles for the second option: he would only expect a preference of fruit flavoured tea from the boy who used the cold as an excuse to hold his hand. Jaemin blushes while wondering what Jeno would be like in bed. He imagines the black haired boy kissing him roughly and sloppily on the neck, touching him in all the right places, he bets Jeno would turn into a wild animal and give up on his innocent image he keeps up during the day, and he’s sure they would have great sex. Elegant, turbulent, glorious sex. Jaemin would like to stay awake a bit longer, to ponder on what kind of breakfast they would have after waking up cuddling in the same bed, but his eyelids are starting to feel heavy, and his body is so comfortably wrapped inside the covers, that Hypnos finally lulls him into profound sleep.

_**Jaemin finds himself walking through the fine arts building corridor, he feels like he’s on a mission, although he doesn’t really know where he is headed. To his horror, he discovers that the halls are flooded with stagnant water that reaches up to his ankles, drenching the perfectly folded cuffs of his black ripped jeans. His hands are clenching around two hearts, and he is immediately reminded of the nightmare he had gone through a few weeks earlier, when he was holding the exact same hearts, the first being flaccid and deflated, the second dripping of vibrantly red liquid. Little droplets of blood are falling rhythmically in the water that is surrounding his bare feet, and create a horribly familiar scene, reminiscing of when Jaemin was coughing blood while choking, back during the incident in the pool. A terrifying sensation tingles on Jaemin’s nerves when he feels the level of the water slowly rising, reaching up to his knees. He walks a bit further, struggling to find a reasonable explanation for walking to the fine arts building in the first place, not remembering how he even got there. At the end of the corridor, Jaemin can see a familiar boy toddling around with nonchalance and whistling the melody of a cheerful song; he’s wearing a red shirt and a pair of shorts, and he doesn’t seem bothered about the flooding water at all. In fact, he looks quite entertained by it, jumping in it and splashing it around. When their eyes meet, the boy smiles and waves at Jaemin, who is now sporting a highly confused expression: “Mark Lee?”** _

_**Jeno’s friend walks towards him with a friendly look, and as he gets closer Jaemin is able to distinctively make out all of his facial features, the sharp lineaments and the big, expressive black eyes. “Oh hi! Jaemin, right?” He pauses with a frown, pointing at the younger’s hands with both his index fingers: “Do you want me to help you carry those? They look heavy…”** _

_**Jaemin has to admit that carrying them does feel been a bit burdensome, and he would gladly accept the other boy’s help. He isn’t really sure which heart to keep, though, and which one to give up: there it goes, he has to make a choice. He considers giving Mark the hollow one, it would obviously be less troublesome to carry around as it’s not dripping with blood. However, Jaemin realises while glancing down at it, this heart must look really fucking gross in Mark’s eyes, being all putrid and stale, and it’s also the heaviest one out of the two. So, since Jaemin doesn’t want to cause an inconvenience to the boy who so kindly offered to help him out, he hesitantly raises his right hand and holds up the second heart, which is avidly pulsating, trying to escape the cage that his fingers create like a prisoner waiting to be bailed out of jail. Mark stretches out his arms and cups his palms together, playfully jiggling his fingers up and down, as to invite the other to hurry up and pass him the object already.** _

_**With a resounding and sloppy thud, Jaemin drops it in Mark’s hands.** _

_**Wrong choice.** _

_**The level of the water starts to rise as Jaemin finds himself trapped in a painfully disorienting sensation: he is not able to make sense of what is happening. Giving Mark the better looking heart felt like the best option to him, but why is he regretting keeping the moldy one? How could he know that holding on it was the solution to keeping the waters low and still?** _

_**“Jaemin, what the fuck is happening?” Mark inquires, with a confused (yet rather aloof) expression, but the brown haired boy is too overwhelmed to take into consideration the older’s words, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier as the water reaches his waist, then his chest, then his shoulders, creating and breaking riptides all around his body.** _

_**“I don’t know. Mark. Help me please. Help me. Please.” Jaemin keeps repeating these words as if he were chanting an ancient mantra, his eyes vacuous and dry, but since not enough air is able to circulate in his lungs due to his state of complete panic, the sentences come out as barely audible whispers. Everything about the scene is dystopian and grotesque, from the blueish light that is filtering through the windows, to the unsteady pace of Jaemin, who almost seems to be moving in slow motion, to the bizarre behaviour of the black haired boy, who doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the absurdity of the situation.** _

_**“Hey Jaemin? I have dealt with nightmares like this before. Please calm down and listen carefully: we’ll just have to swim through the halls and find a way out. Can you do that for me?” Mark asks in a comprehensive tone, as the sluggish water touches the point of his chin.** _

_**“What?”** _

_**Nightmare. Right. This is just a dream, of course, Jaemin reckons it’s too absurd of a situation to find himself in, too weird to be happening in the building’s corridors and too overwhelming for Mark not to be freaking out right now. But what is he supposed to do? He takes into consideration the event that triggered the level of the water to rise. Attempting to regain a bit of his composure, fighting to find any hint of voice left in his throat, he whimpers: “Give me my heart back!”** _

_**Mark swears under his breath and moves quickly towards Jaemin’s direction, since the current of the flood had allowed him to be transported backwards and around the hall, following a nervous tide that guided him all the way to the door where he came from. He is swimming countercurrent, making every effort to reach the poor boy who is now practically begging him to give him the heart: “Please, give it back! Please Mark…”** _

_**Jaemin is now standing on his tiptoes, fighting against the crushing waves that are washing around him. It’s just a dream, he keeps telling himself. A horrible, nasty, fictitious dream. But why does it feel so real?** _

_**Mark takes a deep breath and dips his head under the water, trying to keep his eyes open as his hair sway fluently around his cheeks. The boy observes the scene, the corridor underwater appears ghostly and vacant, but at least the flow of the water is more stable and he is able to rapidly grab Jaemin’s hand and position the red heart in the boy’s palm once again.** _

_**In an anticlimactic turn of events, the water vanishes and Mark falls at Jaemin’s feet with a loud thump. It is almost comical how he gets himself up from the floor and starts looking around with a puzzled expression, not noticing the tears that begin swelling upon the younger’s dark eyes until the latter sniffles and looks at his hands, where he is still holding the two hearts. “Hey, are you okay?” asks Mark, concerned.** _

_**Jaemin doesn’t know what to answer, and mainly doesn’t understand what happened, who the damned hearts belong to. It seems like they both want to fit in his chest, yet he feels a sense of estrangement while holding them in his palms. They are obviously competing with each other, yearning to be the chosen one, bot how can Jaemin know for sure which one to pick? He looks up at Mark with dilated pupils: “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t swim. I couldn’t move...”** _

_**“Don’t worry, sometimes it goes like this and you can’t really plan what happens in your dreams anyway. But it seems to me like you have to make a choice between those two uhm, hearts…” he says comprehensively, although a shadow of disgust is concealed behind his eyes as he points towards the younger boy’s left hand “...and it looks like you’ll have to let go of that old, moldy one. Whatever that means.”** _

_**As Jaemin opens his mouth to thank him, Mark’s eyes widen, fixed on a point right behind the younger’s shoulders: “Looks like I have to go. See you around, mh?”** _

Jaemin lays still in his bed with a strange feeling in his chest, after realising that he has just woken up from a very strange dream. Staring at the ceiling, he tries to pacify his breathing, while desperately looking for something to think about, a distraction from the nightmare he just had. Of course, the reassuring thought of handsome and pretty Jeno is the first one to pop up into his mind. He allows himself once again to get lost in his imagination, but he is not able to fall asleep until the morning, when the loud alarm in Renjun’s room startles him with a ringing chime.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always forget to write the summary ugh however beware of this chapter because there's a lil bit of anxiety/blood but nothing too bad ♥ enjoy

_**22nd of October** _

Jaemin is not proud for not telling his friends that he is going swimming, but he is convinced that if they knew, they would either try to stop him, or follow him around with that sympathetic demeanor that had started to itch on his nerves. So today, he is going alone. As a matter of fact, Jaemin is determined to pursue his goal of entering the water at least, and maybe making it across the pool once or twice without having to stop due to his overwhelming anxiety. He has got enough of wanting to vanish everytime a pool is mentioned in a conversation; and he really means it when he says it’s time to overcome his irrational fear. He just doesn’t know if he is ready yet, which is the reason why every single step he takes sends a shiver down his spine. But hey, on the bright side, he might stumble into one of those muscular athletes (he is thinking of one in particular) who often hang around the pool for training.

After he gets changed, Jaemin reaches the big pool with a lack of confidence that is definitely out of character for him: he is not used to feeling this insecure, and at the moment he kind of regrets not having Hyuck and Renjun by his side, since he knows they would only try and encourage him to do his best while taking off part of the weight he is feeling so heavy in his chest. The distressed boy takes all the time in the world to grab the handle of the ladder and slide across the first and second step: now that he’s half immersed, goosebumps rise all over his body due to the freezing temperature of the water.

He convinces himself that it’s too late to chicken out.

Jaemin is relieved to see that this half of the pool is almost deserted, the only bathers being a middle aged woman with a red swimming cap and a young girl in a black costume. The other half is occupied by the athletes of the University Swimming Team, who also decided to spend their Saturday floating in the water, as if training there literally every day during the week isn’t enough. He looks at them with a blend of envy and admiration, as his stomach twists around like a wet kitchen rag being squeezed: Jaemin would like to compete, like them, but he just can’t fathom the idea of taking the dip without having this staggering feeling of anxiety consume his intestines. One of the members of the team gapes at him and waves: it’s Mark, Jeno’s best friend, who is sitting by the coach shouting orders at his teammates. “That’s not bad, but straighten your shoulders! Park Jisung what are you doing? Start again!”. Jaemin sends him a weak smile, then fixes his eyes on the row in front of him and furrows his brows in concentration: the surface is flat, almost static, if not for the subtle waves that crush unnoticed against the boy’s skin. With his index finger he taps the water, as if to beg it to have mercy on him.

After having what looks like a small argument with Jeno, who is throwing glances at him from a distance, Mark swims through the floating lines that separate the rows and reaches the opposite corner of the pool, where Jaemin is stationed with his eyes closed: “Hello! Jeno is too shy to come and say hi, so I thought I would check up on you instead… Are you okay?”

Mark looks worried, with his eyes wide and shiny and his head slightly tilted to the side, and even though he’s probably just asking out of curiosity, Jaemin finds his concern almost annoying. What’s even _**more annoying**_ , however, is the fact that Mark was the one to come by, while Jeno decided that it was probably not worth swimming all the way to the other side of the pool to greet him. That hurts a bit; in truth, his presence would be more reassuring to Jaemin than anyone else’s at the moment.

Whatever. Jaemin isn’t weak.

Clearly not in the mood to have a light conversation with the suspicious boy who suddenly appeared in almost all of his dreams for the past week, the younger boy answers in a tone which comes out a bit harsher than expected: “I am perfectly fine, Mark.”

As a matter of fact, the black haired boy had intruded at least five of Jaemin’s dreams by now, and the latter couldn’t fathom the reason why something like this would happen. It’s not like he thinks so much about Mark during the day, so why was he always the one to show up unannounced and help him deal with his absurd nightmares? And how could he know? Jaemin wonders if perhaps Mark knows about his dreams, because his concern for the younger sounds very suspicious, given that they have only really seen each other in the flesh just once. However, Jaemin shrugs it off. “Seriously, you can go back to your training. Looks like they need you anyway…” he adds calmly but with a slight bitterness, pointing to a group of swimmers who, due to Mark’s temporary absence, have taken the opportunity to relax for a minute on the cold tiles of the floor beside the pool.

(The black haired boy, unbeknownst to Jaemin, is indeed a dream traveller, but that’s a story for another time.)

Mark moves his gaze on Jaemin’s shivering hands for a second, then back to his face: “Alright, alright. Whatever your problem is, I hope you’ll be able to overcome it.” With that, he quickly swims back to the other side and starts scolding his teammates, who reluctantly jump back into the water with a pout.

Now Jaemin is hanging with one hand on the handle and both of his feet still planted on the ladder, and it takes a few minutes for him to be able to calm down and control his breathing, before he can take the plunge. It’s difficult to ward off all of the thoughts that are crawling in his head like malevolent maggots, but soon he manages to concentrate and gain focus on his afflicted mind. He is ready to dive in. At least he thinks he is.

Turns out, he wasn’t.

When Jaemin’s torso makes contact with the water, it feels like a cloud of helium starts taking over his brain, and all of his thoughts evacuate altogether from his mind, leaving him to ponder frantically over nothing. His fingertips go numb and soon enough he can’t feel his hands anymore, as he tries to reach the edge of the pool with no avail. The boy falls into a state of pure agitation when he realizes that, because he is floating, his legs can’t stretch enough for his feet to be able to touch the ground.

No. No no no no. Not now, not when everyone’s watching. And most importantly, not again. He feels a guttural sound make his way through his shaky chest and consuming his lungs, then another one. He shouts and shouts and shouts in frustration and terror, making a few heads turn in his direction, but his voice comes out ravaged, tied. 

In a matter of seconds, Jaemin’s brain shuts down completely as he loses control of his limbs: he is moving, reaching for air, but the bitter smell of chlorine penetrates quickly into his nostrils, and the brisk water makes its way into Jaemin’s respiratory canal through flowing riptides, choking him haughtily. His eyes are half closed, the only things the boy is able to see now are flashes of that day of the accident, which happened just about one year earlier. Snippets of the pool floor, blood cough, the insides of the ambulance when he was taken away, half-conscious. He can still feel the excruciating pain he had in his chest after the heart failure, and the pressure of Yangyang’s hand in his, while they were driving towards the hospital, both frightened and overwhelmed. It is too difficult to move, too difficult to breathe when his lungs are overtaken by the pressure of his own fear, so Jaemin gives in. He lets himself be hugged by the possessive waters and he succumbs to their superior jurisdiction.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay

Jaemin wakes up violently coughing, water comes out of his mouth in heavy drops as he is able to breathe again, even though his lungs still feel like they’re burning and his stomach, twitching in spasms, makes him want to burst into a swarm of wasps. When the flow of his breath has regularised a bit, Jaemin considers his surroundings. He is crouched down on the locker room floor, and it is kind of reassuring to hold onto the familiar contrast of the yellow and blue tiles of the shower that he can spot with the side of his eye.

In front of him, a concerned Jeno seems to be more agitated than him: “Jaemin! You’re alive!”

“Yes I’m alive, you idiot!” answers the younger in defence, through the coughs, and he is definitely glad that Jeno has come to his rescue. The boy still feels a bit dizzy, but he tries to stand up anyway, and he’s followed by the other, who worriedly asks: “What the hell happened out there?”

Jaemin leans his back against the shower wall and a few timid tears start rushing down his cheeks: he is not crying, just overtaken by frustration. “I uh… I thought I could swim again but… uhm I just… I uhm” he looks at the ceiling. He knows his friend is not going to judge him for not being able to swim, but he suddenly feels so vulnerable, so fragile. Jeno doesn’t know about his past, about all that happened. How would he? So when the older looks at him with inquisitive eyes, Jaemin starts explaining. He tells him everything. It takes long, about fifteen minutes, to be able to illustrate every detail, and the older just stares back at him and listens. 

At the end, Jeno opens his mouth to scold him: “Oh my God Jaemin, why would you go through something like this alone? You could have told me earlier, or asked your friends to come with; that was so dangerous! You could have died out there, you know that, right?!”

Jaemin looks at the ground: “I.. I know. I’m stupid...”.  
Jeno’s hard look is overthrown by sympathy: “You’re not. I’m just worried about you, that’s it.”

Jaemin moves up his gaze to meet the older’s gentle eyes, and his insides are instantly turned upside down. With his damp hair and bare chest, dimly illuminated by the light coming from a small window, Jeno is stunning. The older glances down at Jaemin’s chest, hinting at the scar that extends for about twenty centimeters. He speaks, so gently, so intimately that the younger feels slightly vulgar, standing in front of him: “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes it itches, but it doesn’t hurt. Not on the outside anyway.” mutters Jaemin. This sounds just like a normal sentence, but the way he talks unveils a painfully agonising memory, weeks of misery spent in a bed eating yogurts and flipping through fashion magazines; instead of in a pool, beside his teammates and ready to compete. He feels pathetic, stupid and heartbroken: what did he expect? He’s not ready, still too scared to try again, too much of a coward to let go of his tormenting past and jump forward into the present.

And even though the older doesn’t really know how it felt, he seems to understand it all.

Jeno slowly moves closer and places his hands on an utterly perturbed Jaemin, who is startled by the sudden contact. The boy’s fingers resemble feathers that clutch gently on the other’s hips, and this exchange sends a rush of electricity up his spine. He bends his head, brings his lips to the younger’s chest, and places a delicate kiss on the pink scar. He looks up to meet the eager eyes of the younger.

For a second all of Jaemin’s discouragement seems to vanish, replaced by a cloud of distracted pleasure. His mind is in a frail state of ecstasy, due to the exquisiteness of the other’s touch.

It reminds Jaemin of what his mother used to do when he got hurt as a child. She would kiss the wound, blow on it and then together they would count the passing of time: “tic tac, tic tac, tic tac”, until the pain had gone away. He smiles at the memory, but he doesn’t really want to think about his mother right now, when Jeno is moving up his chest so salacious, tickling the boy’s skin with his eyelashes.

The older places another kiss, just above Jaemin’s right nipple. He proceeds to advance on an invisible trail and lays a soft peck on his shoulder, then on his neck. Jeno moves his lips onto Jaemin’s jawline, his hair tickle the boy’s ear and he has to fight the urge to wrap his hands around the younger’s neck. Every kiss creates a faint and soaked armony, and the two are able to filter out every other audible sound coming from the pool. 

There is something so erotic about the way they are touching each other. Their bodies are dangerously close, now that their legs are intertwined and Jaemin is pressed against the shower wall with the older’s thighs clamping his. Their skin, still wet from the pool, is warm and libertine, and Jaemin can’t help but place his hands around the other boy’s shoulders, tracing his fingers all the way up the older’s back. 

Their noses are now pressed together, mouths open with their upper lips brushing against each other but lingering in a limbo of uncertainty, while the rest of the body is frozen. Jeno’s eyes are wide open, his breath climbs hot and heavy on the other’s flushed cheeks. He doesn’t know what he is doing, given that he should be back in the pool by now, and he has a girlfriend anyway, so whatever kind of romantic playing around should be forbidden by default. Yet he wants this. He has wanted this for God knows how long after they met on the bus that day in September, and now that Jeno is looking at his pretty eyelashes, he wishes he never met the boy in the first place, so that he could avoid feeling this confused everytime they see each other.

Jaemin, on the contrary, is in heaven. His eyes are shut and he is panting, still trying to catch his breath after the overwhelming twenty minutes he had to spend trying to convince Jeno that he wasn’t dying of a panic attack. He moves a bit, aiming to get closer, but he is too scared of the consequences of his actions, afraid that the world will fall under his feet if he ever dares to move.

It is Jeno who finds the courage for him. His right hand clutches around Jaemin’s cheek with such delicacy that it resembles the touch of an autumn leaf falling onto the ground and flying away in the wind. But just when Jeno is ready to close the unbearable distance between their lustful mouths, the clumsy sound of running flip flops echoes around the shower space, making the boys jump two meters away from each other.

“Mark?” Jeno’s hair are sticking onto his forehead due to the humidity of the pool; he is taller than his friend but now he looks so small and defenseless, like a vulnerable puppy. Mark looks at him, then at Jaemin, and his eyes wander back and forth a couple of times before he speaks: “Did I… interrupt something?”

Jeno’s cheeks flush alarmingly red: “No!” both boys say at the same time, way too quickly.

Mark smirks and looks at the ground, then he glances up again at his friend, a devilish grin still fixed on his lips: “Sure. Whatever. By the way, coach is waiting for you”

“O-okay” is all that Jeno can mutter before waving at Jaemin with a shy smile and following his teammate back in the pool. While they are walking, Mark turns towards him and whispers with appreciation: “Dude! You can’t just make out with Jaemin in the shower and not tell me about it!”

“We didn’t even kiss…” when Jeno notices Mark’s furrowed eyebrows, he continues: “you had to come in, right at that moment…”

“Oh. Sorry bro. By the way, I have to tell you about this weird dream I had the other night...”

Jeno playfully pushes his friend into the pool and a minute later they are both swimming again. He tries to focus, he really does, but his mind floats away, still fixed on a certain boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa this was one of my favourite chapters to write ♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really written any fluff for a few chapters so here you have some cute ♥ moments as a treat!

_**30th October** _

It’s well past after sundown when Mark, Johnny and another short guy who looks like he just came out of a Versace changing room, loudly approach Doyoung at the counter of the cafe and drag him to the nearest free table. The latter sits with a pout, complaining that Jeno won’t be able to deal with the customers’ orders all by himself, but his friends assure him his brother will be fine. To be fair, quite a lot of people pay a visit to the Interlude in the latest hours of the night, just to relax and end their day on a pleasant note, however most of the tables are already served by now, and it turns out that Jeno can manage quite well.

“Woah, is it hot here or is it just you?” roars a voice from behind Jeno’s shoulders and when the latter turns around he is presented with the most dazzling of sights: behind the counter stands Na Jaemin, in all his beauty, dressed in a bright purple sweatshirt and a fuzzy black beret. The brown haired boy is looking at him with his lips pursed, as to mimic a kiss, and Jeno is quick to adjust his hair and fiddle with the hem of his apron, eyes low and cheeks flushed: “I told you not to put your hands on the show case window, now I’ll have to polish it again…” he chuckles.

“I have a proposal for you, Lee Jeno.” Jaemin affirms, his arms still all over the glass cabinet.

“Oh yeah? Are you going to ask for my hand? I’m not ready to get married yet, you know.” Jeno keeps himself busy by stacking loads of tiny cups on the shelves above the sink “Plus, you’ll have to get my brother’s blessing and I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“It’s not that, silly.” Jaemin’s tone is playful, and there is no malice in his words, only gracile sweetness that makes Jeno’s heart miss a few beats. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he would die to be called silly again by pretty and charming Jaemin. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me at my table, since I’m all alone tonight…” the younger continues and Jeno wants to answer that yes, he would love to. But he can’t, and Jaemin understands, saying that it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to worry because he just wanted to come and say hi anyway. They smile at each other, and it’s just a little bit awkward, but as Jaemin is about to head for the exit with a frown, the older grabs him by the shoulder and almost desperately blurts out the first sentences that come to his mind: “Wait! Please, stay. Let’s make a deal, okay?”

Jaemin’s smile returns wider on his lips as the other continues: “Let’s say, you sit down there...” Jeno points at a table that’s surrounded by loads of dark green ivy and dimly lit by a rose shaped candle, and to Jaemin it looks like the most romantic place in the world “...while I finish my shift; I’m almost done anyway. Then I’m just going to say hi to my friends, and I’m all yours. How does that sound?”

“You’re all mine? Sounds lovely.” The younger heads over the table and sits down, waving at Mark and Doyoung and leaving a flustered Jeno alone behind the counter. The latter carries on working for about half an hour, thirty minutes of being hyper aware of the mischievous glances thrown at him by none other than his favourite boy Na Jaemin but, since Doyoung can’t stand taking a pause longer than that because he’s a chronic workaholic, Jeno soon trades places with him and quickly heads over the table where his brother was sitting, after folding away his apron and grabbing his brown bag from the storage room. 

He walks over to Mark’s side, greeting his boys and getting acquainted with Johnny’s new friend too. The guy, Jeno thinks, is gorgeous: his eyes are small and almond shaped, hiding under a line of black eyeliner, and the way they sit ajar above his pointy nose makes him appear as a slithering wild serpent ready to snatch his prey. Everything about his body is proportionate and graceful, from the skinny legs, to the ears, to the small hand that reaches under the table and clutches onto Johnny’s thigh. He smells like cigarettes and roses, and with the little smirk that’s making its way onto his glossy lips, Jeno immediately knows he’s dealing with a little troublemaker. He looks absolutely stunning and, blushing, Jeno realises that maybe after meeting Jaemin he’s paying more attention to male beauty. “Aha, Lee Jeno, I’ve heard lots of things about you. It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Ten.” Johnny’s friend says, in a soothing voice that sounds like velvet, and Jeno shakes his hand in silence, entranced by his presence.

“Who’s that boy you were flirting with?” Johnny suddenly chimes, tilting his head in Jaemin’s direction but being careful not to talk too loudly. Jeno, ever so eloquent, manages to stutter: “M-Me? I-I wasn’t-”

“It’s Jaemin, his new…” Mark interrupts, lifting his hands and proceeding to gesture some extremely exaggerated air quotes, while winking “...friend”

Jeno shushes him but, in all honesty, he isn’t opposed to the idea of his best friend teasing him for liking Jaemin. On the contrary, he kind of enjoys it, or perhaps he is just glad Mark isn’t making a big deal out of him having a crush on another guy. They were never really good at talking about private matters, but they always have each other’s back when it comes to relationship advice and emotional support. Johnny’s friend speaks again, subtly devouring Jaemin with his eyes (although the boy in question doesn’t seem to notice): “So, you like that guy huh. He’s pretty.”

Jeno regains some of his composure. “I guess.”

As Johnny looks at Jeno with a half-cheeky, half-proud smirk, Ten gets dangerously close to his face and whispers: “I dare you to make a move on him, right now.”

He gains a light chuckle from the two black haired boys sitting across him at the table, but Jeno just throws a killer look in his direction and turns around, ordering: “Doyoung? Two hot chocolates with extra cream for table nine, please.”

He then sits down across Jaemin and sighs, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin between his cupped hands: “Sorry, it took longer than I thought. I’m not sure we have much time to talk either, since my brother’s closing in a few minutes...”

The younger smiles: “Don’t worry _**babe**_ , I needed some time to think anyway. I’m glad you’re here now. Oh, Thanks Doyoung!” he says, as the young man who looks like the older version of Jeno sets two mugs of hot chocolate on the table. With a tired smile, he responds: “You’re welcome.”

As he returns to the counter, Jaemin whispers: “By the way, this chocolate looks way worse than the one you prepared for me last time. Is your brother really bad at it or were you maybe… trying to make a good impression on me?” He likes the idea of Jeno wanting to impress him with his barista skills, but all he receives is a scoff and a dire look: “Uh, as if.”

Jaemin laughs: he’s a master at reading people (after years and years of practice with watching bad Argentinian telenovelas), and he’s a heartbreaker on top of that, so he can usually tell when someone has fallen head over heels for him. But he’s having fun taking it slow, and he finds the teasing way more endearing than any hook up he’s ever had. “You know, I’m not a photographer, but I can really picture me and you together.”

Jeno frowns, completely ignoring the butterflies swarming in his chest after the thought of the two of them being in a relationship: “Aren’t you like, a film major or something?”

“Oh my God, that’s not the same thing at all!” Jaemin answers, beginning a heated explanation on the differences between the two art courses. Jeno enjoys this: chatting on a poorly lit table while the rain drizzles bitterly against the tall glass windows, the timid smiles, the lively laughs, the younger calling him pet names and him accepting them with nonchalance, heart thumping in his chest. It gives him a homely feeling, a special calmness in his spirit.

The brown haired boy suddenly asks him what he keeps in his bag, because his curious nature causes him to inquire about anything and everything he sees, and Jeno is quick to take out his literature books and his messy notebooks, showing his favourite pages from each volume. He opens one of them and reveals a beautiful drawing made by a Japanese artist he’s very fond of, although Jaemin’s attention is caught by a small green paperback notebook with a title written in cursive on the front cover: _**Silly poems**_.

“You write poetry!” he exclaims, grabbing the thing and rummaging through the pages, brushing the smooth paper with the tip of his fingers. The older looks at him fondly, rubbing his nape, while Jaemin immerses himself in the book, sniffing it and observing the perfect lettering of the poem titles. “Yes, sometimes I write about things or people that I find interesting, but nothing too elaborate. Most of them are for my cats, but... there is one about you, too. Would you like to listen to it?”

“About… me?” Jaemin gapes at him with huge eyes, vigorously nodding; he looks like a child who has been promised a bag of candies, and at the sight Jeno feels like flowers are starting to grow in his chest. “Yes, please read it to me.”

The older lied when he said he wrote a poem about Jaemin; he actually made at least ten different compositions in his honour, and at the moment he isn’t sure which one is best to read out to him. Some are very intricate, some are made up of a line or two. He can’t recite them all, of course, so he opts for the free verse poem he wrote down after the first time Jaemin visited the Interlude. Perhaps the last ones are more captivating and have better metrics or sounds, but the one he chooses is the most heartfelt out of them all. It’s also the only poem that doesn’t have a title in the whole notebook. So, while the younger is looking at him with anticipation, Jeno adjusts himself in his chair, clears his throat and begins:

_**He is a daisy between the sunflowers  
delicate and free  
unafraid of the storm  
that swivels in my chest  
clasping on the tight ropes of uncertainty** _

_**I could tell it from the beginning:  
he is an orchard among the chastity of the city  
that ever so urban and dull  
envelopes us in its lethargy  
and ties our hands with the strings of worry** _

__**but like a daisy between the sunflowers**  
he is delicate and free  
and unafraid 

As Jeno glances up back at him, Jaemin finds himself staring at the older boy’s notebook, unable to lock contact with his eyes directly. He doesn’t know what to say, nobody ever wrote a poem for him before, and he’s just starstruck at the notion. (Well, there was one of his exes who was so desperate to keep him as his boyfriend after they broke up, that he wrote a whole ass self-insert fanfiction with the two of them as the protagonists, although that was just straight up creepy.) 

Jeno’s poem is so heartwarming and sweet that, for the first time in months, Jaemin can feel some life in his chest, a new fire that almost resuscitates his discouraged heart. On top of this reassuring feeling, Jaemin is very flattered, too: Jeno has written those splendid verses _**for**_ him and _**about**_ him. Jeno thinks he’s delicate and unafraid, Jeno compares him to a wildflower. Jeno wrote, through metaphors, that he believes in him, that he is strong; he read through him even though they didn’t even know each other yet. If he wasn’t convinced Jeno was an exceptional person before, he surely is now.

After a few seconds of silence, Jaemin whispers: “That was so... beautiful”

The older bites his lip, insecurity crawling up his back like an army of ants: “You don’t sound convinced. Well don’t worry about it, I never actually read my poetry out loud… I just thought you might like it.” he chuckles, feeling a bit ashamed and regretful because of course Jaemin would find his poem weird “It’s nothing, really…”

“No, no, no, please don’t say it’s nothing.” the younger blurts out, lifting up his gaze to meet Jeno’s “It’s just... I’m surprised you think so highly of me. It really is so, so beautiful. Thank you.”

Jeno smiles. “Well then, I want you to have it.”

He carefully tears off the page where the poem is written, and hands it to the younger, who grabs it as if it were the most precious thing in the entire world. While Jeno puts all of his books back into the brown bag, Jaemin observes the poem: it’s written in an untidy calligraphy and around the words there are pretty doodles of leaves and stars and curvy lines. On the other side of the page, there is a realistic drawing of a fox and some scribbles, probably drafts of random fleeting verses that came suddenly in the other’s mind and vanished just as quickly. The younger reads the poem again, but only as a whisper: he doesn’t understand how something that looks so simple and unimportant, scribbled on a striped, flimsy sheet of paper, can hold so much significance to him.

His train of thought is interrupted by Mark, who in the meantime has walked over to their table: “Hey, Doyoung is closing up. Ten is walking home since he lives like, super close, so we have two empty seats in my brother’s car. Would you guys like a lift?”

Jaemin would have liked to accept the invite, but Jeno is quicker: “Uhm actually, I think Jaemin and I are going to walk home…”

He knows he isn’t supposed to talk for him, but he is really craving some more alone time with the brown haired boy and, apparently, the feeling is mutual because the younger just nods along. Mark looks at Jeno and says, deadpan: “Dude, it’s raining.” But his friend assures that he has an umbrella, and that the downpour is going to stop shortly anyway, by the looks of it.

So, five minutes later, the two younger boys are walking alone towards the residential district, sharing a yellow umbrella and Jaemin, who’s wearing just a light sweater, has the older’s coat wrapped around his shoulders.

And maybe Jeno is holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I got the "silly poems" idea from my friend John who writes poetry at every hour of the day, and says he has a collection of silly poems ♥ so thank you John (although hopefully you'll never read this haha)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you feel like it :-) I'd love to hear what you guys think of the story up until now! This chapter is a bit longer than the others haha I hope I didn't bore you ♣


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit random but black berets >>>>

_**31st October** _

Jaemin takes off his black beret after closing the door behind his back. He sighs. His shoes are soaked in water, and his right hand is cold and wet from having to hold the umbrella for the whole journey; maybe going home in the rain wasn’t the best idea after all.

However, the walk with Jeno has been absolutely pleasurable: the latter talked about his past, being raised by his grandparents and, eventually, just his brother, and Jaemin has found the courage to tell him a bit more about the swimming incident and his tumultuous relationship with the school’s bad boy, Yangyang, who also happened to be the guy who accompanied him at the hospital for the surgical operation. He finds it reassuring that they can have a conversation about those things without feeling uncomfortable or embarrassed: maybe for Jeno the younger is just a silly, frivolous crush, but Jaemin is becoming way more attached to the older than he ever expected to be, and it is admittedly a little bit scary.

The boy walks over to the boiler and prepares a lemon and ginger tea: he is used to drink a cup of it every night before going to bed, because he read in a magazine that ginger is good for calming the nerves, which is what he needs in order to avoid having nightmare after nightmare. Jaemin is really looking forward to going to bed, he can’t wait to feel the warm blanket wrapped around his body and doze off to sleep. He’s quite excited to meet Mark, as well: for the last two weeks they’ve been seeing each other in his dreams almost every night, and they’ve had a lot of peculiar adventures together, too. Quite honestly, the older boy’s presence has made Jaemin feel less lonely lately, and while walking up the stairs with a cup of tea in his hands, he wonders if Mark is aware of the fact that they meet his dreams, or if the real Mark is a completely different person from the one he sees during his slumber.

He gently puts the cup on his bedside table and looks at his phone, noticing it’s almost two o’clock. Outside of the window, the barely distinguishable silhouette of Jeno is walking towards the other side of the block, and it is pestered by the potent rainfall, which hasn’t stopped yet, contrary to what they predicted earlier.

Jeno turns around and, after noticing the slim figure perched on the windowsill, he waves at Jaemin. The latter raises his hand and waves back, with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Sweet, handsome Jeno isn’t aware of the cataclysm that’s going down in the younger’s stomach after a simple exchange like the one they just shared.

Tired and sleepy, Jaemin sips half of his tea, changes into his pyjamas and slips under the thick blanket on his bed. He doesn’t bother closing the door, since he reckons he won’t be disturbed by any sound anyway, given that his housemates are probably already asleep.

However, just as he’s starting to doze off, he hears a faint whine coming from Renjun’s room. Then some sniffles and other muffled wails. It’s the cry of a girl, probably one of Renjun’s artsy friends, although Jaemin doesn’t really know anyone from his housemate’s clique, so he can’t exactly pinpoint who the voice belongs to. Sitting up in his bed, he’s able to decipher Renjun’s comforting tone muttering something along the lines of: “Enough tears for today, darling… Just sleep here, I’ll take the couch… No, don’t worry about me… Goodnight.”

Renjun closes his door with a quiet _**clac**_ and goes down the stairs walking stealthily, in one hand a blanket and a pillow, in the other, his phone with the torch turned on. The boy places the soft pillow on the arm of the sofa and elegantly unfolds the blanket over the cushions, then throws himself on the couch and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, sighing.

“You messed up, Misun… You’ll have to sort this out as soon as you can...” he whispers to himself in resignation, not noticing the shadow of a person moving towards him in the dark. When the mysterious presence starts speaking, the poor boy instinctively curls up into a ball like a terrified hedgehog and lets out a distressed screech. His heart sinks.

“What did you say?” Jaemin is now sitting across his friend, legs crossed, and he looks at him with a puzzled expression, not understanding what’s going on. Their faces are illuminated by the timid moonlight that seeps through the living room windows.

“For God’s sake, Jaemin! Don’t sneak up on me! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!” the older boy wants to yell at him, but the exclamation comes out as an aggressive whisper. 

“Renjun did you…” Jaemin scoots closer, he looks almost concerned. He softly places a hand on his friend’s knee “did you break up with a girlfriend I didn’t even know you had?”

“What? No! Of course not! I would tell you if I were in a relationship… This is not about me, or about you, for that matter!” Renjun answers, and he sounds a bit stressed, like he would much rather prefer to sleep in his own bed without having to take care of other people’s problems on this uncomfortable couch, which is obviously way too soft for his liking.

The other just keeps quiet, so his tone quickly changes: Jaemin doesn’t deserve to be treated badly by him just because he’s in a bad mood. “I’m sorry, Jaem. Didn’t mean to go off on you like that. I’m just helping a friend sort out her mistake, that's all…” Renjun frowns and rubs the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand, like an exhausted cat. He yawns.

“You look exhausted” Jaemin asserts, and the older boy just glances at him with evident bags under his eyes: “Yeah, no shit. I’m super tired because there are like, a thousand projects I need to finish even though it feels like the academic year has just started, and I’m not even sure I’ll be able to make it, you know? Being an art major is not easy…”

Renjun’s whole figure sinks into the overly soft cushions of the sofa, and he looks annoyed trying to find a comfortable position: “Looks like I won’t be able to sleep, as well...” he lightly chuckles, resigned, although he’s not regretting letting Misun stay in his room because tonight she needs all the comfort she can get.

Jaemin feels a bit guilty, although he doesn’t really understand the reason why. Maybe it’s because Renjun seems very stressed lately, always drinking coffee and running around, helping out everybody because that’s just who he is, waking up too early and staying up too late. Maybe it’s because Jaemin instead feels so good all the damn time, hanging out with his crush and finding the time to do anything he likes, and lately everyone else’s life looks almost miserable in comparison to his. He sighs: “Renjun, I’m sorry you feel this way… If you ever need anything, you know you can come to me for help, right?”

After the other just nods with a lump in his throat, Jaemin continues, hesitantly: “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Renjun’s eyes become two full moons.

Jaemin smiles: “Yeah, I can take the couch.”

“Oh my god, Jaemin! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the older boy draws him in a messy hug and then runs up the stairs, leaving Jaemin alone in the living room.

“Goodnight” the brown haired boy whispers.

He wishes a good night to Hyuck, who’s probably already heavily asleep, or maybe just listening to loud heavy metal tunes from his old mp3.

He wishes a good night to his dear friend Renjun, and to the girl upstairs, who is probably going through a rough time right now, and even though Jaemin doesn’t know what happened, he wants to be close to her.

He wishes a good night to Jeno, who has just arrived home, and to Mark Lee, wondering if they will meet soon.

He wishes a good night to his brother Jaehyun, because he misses him so, so much, and to his parents too, since he hasn’t seen them in months due to their busy work schedule.

He wishes a good night to himself, at last, and falls a sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think happened with Misun? 👀
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!!


	11. Chapter 11

_**3rd November** _

"Why do I always find you wandering around at night like a stray cat?" Jeno approaches Jaemin, who is sitting on a bench, carefully placing a tiny snail on its edge because it was recklessly sludging in the middle of the bike lane, waiting for an imprudent cyclist to take its life. The boy looks up at Jeno and takes in his heavenly image: the older has just come out of the pool and it’s very evident because his hair, although already dry, is messily swayed around his head (probably fumbled up in a rush) while the sleeves of his sweater are almost glued to his arms, under the heavy blue coat that the younger has grown used to recognise from a distance. It’s funny, really, the way some of the stray locks of Jeno’s hair are spiking up, blown around by the breeze, and the way his cheeks turn the same colour of the sun that’s setting down on the horizon due to the chilly temperature; yet Jaemin finds it extremely attractive.

“Wait, I’m calling the police, because it’s got to be illegal to look _**that good…**_ ” Jaemin takes out his phone and pretends to dial some number, and Jeno laughs lightly, thanking him. The younger is always able to lift up his self esteem with peculiar and sudden compliments, and the older is absolutely weak for it. He doesn’t really believe him, though, he knows he’s looking like a mess right now, but Jaemin doesn’t seem to care, still sitting cross legged on the bench, focusing on the older’s figure with sparkly eyes. He looks like he’s got his head free of thoughts, like he let the wet air take hold of them for a minute or two, allowing him some deserved serenity. Jeno adjusts some hairs behind his ears, then glances up at the overcast sky and immediately feels a few shy drops bounce on his cheeks.

“Huh, is it starting to rain again?” he asks, still looking up with a frown. It’s a rhetorical question, and the other just hums along, mindlessly. Jeno stretches out a hand and feels a few more rounded drops of water tick on his palm: it’s been raining a lot during the whole month of October, so the chance of another imminent rainfall isn’t too far away from what they were expecting anyway, since arrogant dark clouds have been hovering above the city for the whole day, threatening to break out at any moment. Around the two boys, the bare trees are dancing a waltz, embracing the generous draft of the wind, while from the dirt curious earthworms are peeping out, anticipating the rain. Jeno finds the little animals extremely cute.

What’s even cuter, though, is the younger boy’s hand clutching tenaciously around his, while more and more water drops drizzle over their coats: "Looks like it’s going to pour in no time, so we better move fast.” Jaemin gets up from his seat and leads towards the path a startled Jeno, who is surprised by the sudden movement.

A few seconds later, the two boys find themselves running, holding onto each other’s hand for dear life while the rain pours violently all around them, brutally leaving dark round spots on Jaemin’s light blue jeans. Their feet are moving quickly, but the two boys are not fast enough to avoid the storm, and eventually roaring thunders start to be heard in the background, while the gods of lightning playfully illuminate the sky with their dazzling bolts and the drizzle above them transforms into heavy rainfall. The wind has become more forceful, too, which is good because at least there isn’t any fog and the boys can clearly make out the outlines of the younger’s house in the distance.

Jaemin and Jeno’s hearts are too loud in their ears and their breaths are too fast-paced for them to pay any attention to what’s happening in their surroundings. In fact, the two seem to be stuck in their own bubble, Jaemin laughing and panting, trying to catch some air and Jeno having the time of his life, carelessly splashing around huge amounts of water every time he steps in a puddle. It’s not like they get the opportunity to do something as reckless and childish as this on most days, so they’re quite enjoying the feeling of freedom that the water sticking on their clothes is able to give to them. It’s fun and liberating, and both of them feel ecstatic shivers all over their bodies because, even though they’re freezing, their linked hands emit a pleasant burning sensation that’s keeping their spirits alive.

When they reach Jaemin’s house, the two boys are positively soaked.

They enter in a rush, closing the door with a loud thump and immediately taking off their boots and socks, which are absolutely drenched: their bare feet find comfort in the fluffy carpet of the living room. Jaemin falls on the floor in a fit of giggles, followed by Jeno, who sits next to him and exclaims: “Oh my God, Jaemin, we could have taken the bus! Running was such a dumb decision!” playfully slapping the younger on the arm.

After catching his breath, Jaemin frowns: “But the bus is not as fun!” 

The two boys change into warm clothes and spend their evening chatting on the floor, reading poems written by extremely pessimistic Italian authors and trying to outsmart the book by theorising on the real meaning of the compositions. By eight o’clock the storm has become a proper tempest, and sometimes the two boys struggle to hear what the other is saying due to the loud rain gusting powerfully on the kitchen windows.

Jeno ends up choosing to stay for dinner since the wind is now so strong that they can hear it singing in the chimney, so with high effort (and some help from Renjun) the two manage to prepare some homemade pizza with a few ingredients they already had in the pantry.

While they’re eating in silence, stuffing their mouths with the delicious blend of dough, tomato and mozzarella, Jeno’s eyes can’t help but linger over Jaemin’s body: he looks adorable, curled up on the other side of the couch intensely munching the slice of pizza in his hand, his nose and forehead still partly covered in white flour from the food war they had while they were preparing the ingredients. He looks like a cute kitten, and it’s almost impossible for Jeno to avoid scooching over the cushion and running a hand through his fluffy hair, but he is able to fight the urge when the other’s eyes dart up to meet his.

“Do you like it?” the brown haired boy asks, referring to the pizza.

Jeno smiles: “I love it.”

“Good. I’ll save the recipe then.” Jaemin takes another bite.

After washing up the dishes, which takes at least an hour between the whining of having to do the housework and the actual deed, Jaemin takes Jeno up to his room (since they don’t want to disturb Renjun’s evening meditation session) and the latter is immediately impressed with the quantity of pictures adorning the younger’s faint beige walls.

Jaemin’s room reflects perfectly his bubbly personality: it’s honestly untidy, and quite small too, but it looks like every piece of furniture is able to fit well with the colours and the various ornaments and decorations. The white curtains are embellished with tiny embroidered flowers, well matching with the fresh ones that are elegantly arranged in a shy bouquet and placed in a ceramic vase on top of the windowsill. On the desk, there are a few notebooks and countless coloured pens, some of them brand new, some chewed and without the cap. The shelves are full of second-hand books and CDs, and on top of the library, in a corner, a few old swimming trophies are happily collecting dust.

It’s actually a bit painful for Jaemin to see them in his peripheral vision every time he looks up at the ceiling, and as a matter of fact, it was his older brother’s deed, to boldly place the reminder of his trauma right there on full display. However Jaehyun, who so wholeheartedly told the boy he should keep the medals in his room to show off his achievements, did it with good intentions, and the younger didn’t have the guts to tell him he couldn’t bear waking up to that vision every single day. Instead of throwing the trophies away, Jaemin only slid them a bit further back on top of the library, just enough so they’re not the first thing he notices when he looks up.

Taped around the furniture there are multiple instant pictures of different things he likes: the photo of a duck, taken by the pond near the campus, one of his friends - probably from Hyuck’s last birthday, Jeno reckons, since in the picture he’s the one wearing a paper crown and blowing some candles on a cake. There is even one of Jaemin sitting next to an old man in a wheelchair, both of them smiling at the camera. It warms Jeno’s heart.

There are a myriad of other interesting photos all over the walls, and the brown haired boy lets Jeno attentively observe each one of them, while mindlessly flicking through the “theory of cinema” book that was hanging around on his desk.

Jaemin’s bed is located opposite the door, next to the window: it’s actually quite big, compared to the rest of the room, and it’s very fluffy too, which is why it looks like the boy could get swallowed by the duvet the moment he throws himself on it.

He pats a spot next to himself with his hand, and Jeno sits down carefully, crossing his legs. “So…”

“So…” the younger repeats, and since the atmosphere has become a bit awkward, with them looking right at each other, the two burst out in a soft laughter. “Do you wanna have a sleepover?”

“Uhm, uh… I wasn’t really planning on staying but…” the older points at the window, heavy rain storming outside, and Jaemin nods, understanding.

Jeno blushes, because this is exactly the situation he wanted to avoid: being stuck in a room with Jaemin, the boy he’s positively crushing on (yes, he came to terms with it after their exchange in the pool locker room) without a way to escape or any sanity left to avoid thinking about sleeping next to him in his bed, holding him in his arms while gently passing a hand through his soft hair, fingers brushing against the younger’s cheek and…

“I’ll just... go downstairs on the couch, then.” Jeno interrupts his own train of thought, cheeks burning.

“What? No, the couch is too soft, it’s uncomfortable! You’re sleeping in my room.” It almost comes off as an order, and Jaemin doesn’t know where this authoritarian tone is coming from, but he’s happy to have found the courage to say it with such confidence.

“You’re going to take the bed, I will be sleeping on the floor. Don’t resist, I’m not changing my mind.” he says, getting up and starting to prepare his nest, made up of soft blankets and fuzzy pillows. Jeno wasn’t gonna protest anyway, he absolutely despises the idea of sleeping on the floor, so he’s quite glad Jaemin offered him the bed instead.

The younger continues: “We could ask my friends if they would like to join us, but Hyuck is out with his family, and Renjun always wakes up at ass o’clock in the morning, which would be very inconvenient for us, since we would lose all those morning sleeping hours we could get otherwise, so…” he fakes a bummed expression, but both of them are secretly kind of glad Jaemin’s friends can’t join the party.

Jeno smiles: “It’ll be the two of us, then.”

“Yeah…”

/

Jeno lays down in Jaemin’s bed, immediately enveloped by a thick duvet that swallows him in a very pleasant warmth. He turns off the light on the nightstand and glances over at Jaemin, who’s just getting comfortable in his den of soft blankets: the boy is shivering evidently, and Jeno doesn’t understand if it’s for the cold, or because he’s slightly frightened by the loud thunders that create a grotesque concert outside the apartment.

“Jaemin?” he asks, after a rather awkward moment of silence.

The younger boy hums questioningly, locking contact with Jeno’s glossy eyes: his dimly illuminated features are so soft and irresistibly pretty, that the older finds himself blushing just at the thought of being beside him.

“I… I was thinking about that day, at the pool…” he murmurs, eyes low.

Jaemin lets out a light chuckle: “Which part?”

“The part where you… passed out because you panicked?” Jeno’s whisper is careful, he knows he’s hitting a nerve, which is why he has to pay attention to what he says. “Jaemin, I just want to make sure you’re okay…”

“Ah.” the younger’s expression falls, but the room is luckily too dark for Jeno to notice. “I am.”

Of course the older is thinking about that other part too, when their lips almost touched before he had to go back to practice. Jeno wonders what would have happened if Mark had come in just a minute later: would they have kissed?

He shrugs off the thought with a mental facepalm: it feels quite selfish to moon over that episode given that what Jaemin needs the most at the moment is a friend to support him, not a stupid kiss. 

Jeno’s heart somersaults in his chest when the following words roll timidly out of the younger’s throat: “Will you come swim with me one of these days?”

A million thoughts begin slithering around the older’s mind like jolly caterpillars, haunting his common sense and taking over his protective instincts: what if Jaemin is not ready yet? What if something dangerous happens to him, like the last time they were at the pool together? What if he’s just asking because he wants to come off as strong, but in reality he still feels insecure about all of it?

But Jeno also knows that Jaemin wouldn’t ask such a thing if he wasn’t 100% sure he would be able to make it: after the episode at the pool, Jeno made him promise to come to him whenever he would have been ready to take the dip again, and Jaemin had actually _**pinky-promised**_ right away, which, for the both of them, meant a very big deal.

So, the older shuffles back under his blanket and whispers: “I would love to.”

Jaemin’s smile, hidden in the dark, conceals a certain kind of beatitude that embraces him tenderly and pampers him gently into profound sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Feel free to leave a comment ♥ also you can talk to me on my twt: @seupeuu


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